


I Remember You

by caprithebunny



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clairvoyance, F/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Will update tags, fourth part is literally just backstory, i will die bitter over varric/hawke not being finished, isabela shenanigans, young cullen and amell stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-04-14 21:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14145420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caprithebunny/pseuds/caprithebunny
Summary: Carrie Amell is a special mage. She's been able to see visions all her life, and it's one of the reasons she's not locked in a Tower somewhere. In fact, the Chantry protected her when she was younger from the people who would use her talents for themselves- even though the Chantry tried this as well. Carrie won't allow this, however. She's been used enough in her life, and now she's caught in another trap that she can't escape.Will an old infatuation become something more as old friends and enemies, as well as new ones, appear to rip these two apart? What will become of an Amell who should, by all accounts, be dead?





	1. Prologue

****

_Total darkness. She wanted to wake, but she was stuck in this… land of black. Though… there was something coming to her. Images of an explosion… The Conclave and the Temple going up in fire and ash… Someone calling her name, but she can’t place the voice… Feeling hard ground underneath her and a ringing in her ears as soldiers turned her over…_

Her eyes groggily opened. Colors blurred nauseatingly, and even as she woke up more, she couldn’t make out where she was due to the darkness. She felt cold, hard floor under her body. She went to move her hands out from under her, only to find them in a metal brace, locked in place. She struggled to push herself up. As she moved, she felt herself gasp out in pain as a green flare of light erupted from her hand. She realized she barely heard anything; there was a ringing in her ears that dulled most of the noise-though not all. Looking around, the little light there was in the room glinted off of metallic armor… Guards. She felt a bubble of panic rising in her chest, but before she could speak, the door to the room was knocked open. The sound of it hitting the wall was dully noted by her ears, which were just beginning to be able to filter sound better as her magic healed their internal wounds. Two women entered, the first in higher level soldier garb and the second cloaked, her lack of footfalls betraying her more rogue nature. She eyed them warily, especially as the soldier circled her. She suddenly ripped down the prisoner’s hood. The cloaked woman’s face portrayed nothing, but her eyes were ever so slightly widened by shock.

“Tell me why we should not kill you now. The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead… Except for you.” The soldier’s voice held a thick accent, almost like that of the Free Marches, but different. Her voice was deepened from emotion, as though something were stuck in her throat. The prisoner felt the same; though it was horror she felt most of all.

“Wh-what? No… Th-that’s not possible…” She felt tears coming to her eyes. The thought of so many lives lost… But wait. Surely, they didn’t think… “You think I did this… don’t you?” The soldier’s face contorted, and she took a tight hold of one of her forearms, the one that had a green flare come from it a moment ago.

“Explain _this_.” She angrily raised it, and another green flare painfully shot from it. She threw the arm down and continued her circle around the prisoner.

“I… can’t.” Her mind was blank on how it came to be there, only that it was painful and upon inspection, looked like a deep laceration that faintly glowed green.

“ _What do you mean you can’t?!”_ Her voice was full of anger, and her gait told that her patience was running thin.

“I mean I can’t explain how it got there, because _I don’t know how or why it’s there!_ ” The prisoner’s voice was distressed, both because of her predicament and the fact that truly, she hadn’t any idea where the mark came from. The angry soldier grasped her by the shoulders, her grip painfully tight.

“ _You’re lying!_ ” The rogue quickly grabbed one of her arms and drug her back, her face stiff and emotionless once more.

“We need her, Cassandra…” She pulled the Cassandra woman to the door, then both turned around to gaze down at the prisoner. The woman bowed her head, shaking it softly.

“All those people… are dead?” The rogue was suddenly in front of her, her familiar blue eyes burning into hers.

“Do you remember what happened? How this began?” Realization dawned on the prisoner: she knew who this was. Leliana, lay sister of the Chantry, Sister Nightingale, Left Hand of the Divine… and an old friend. Leliana did not show any hint of familiarity, though; no doubt to put less suspicion on herself… especially in the company of this ‘Cassandra’… but that is neither here nor now.

“I remember… running. Fire and ash. Horrors chasing me, clawing at my legs… And… a woman. Bathed in green.” It was fuzzy in her mind, the images and details swimming just out of her reach. They threatened to completely dissipate soon.

“A woman?” Leliana’s voice sounded doubtful, but also… intrigued.

“She reached out to me, but then…” She shook her head. She heard Cassandra's heavy footsteps, then the grasping of cloth as Leliana was pulled back from her.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the Rift.” Looking up, she saw Leliana backing out of the doorway, her eyes dead-set on her, that familiar blue gaze lingering. Cassandra closed the door mostly, and walked back to her, then kneeled. She began undoing the metal brace’s chains, working through the mini locks, then replacing it with a strongly tied knot. “What is your name? I do not want to have to continuously call you ‘Prisoner’. It would get old very quickly.”

“I-I’m Carrie. Carrie Amell. What… What exactly happened?” She gripped Carrie’s arm and helped her to her feet. Her face was sorrowful, her eyes casted downward.

“It would be… easier to show you.” She turned away and began leading the way out of the dungeon's door. Carrie reached up and tugged her hood back into place, concealing most of her face. She preferred it that way.

She followed behind Cassandra, thoroughly examining the building with her eyes. It appeared to be the under area to a chantry, and as they exited to the upper floor, her thoughts were confirmed. Though it was a smaller one, it was most definitely a chantry. Soldiers, Sisters, and scouts were scattered in the hall, and as the two approached the doors, they were swung open for them. The bright sunlight burned her eyes, and its reflection from the snow nearly blinded her. As she looked up into the sky where others were staring, she saw a pit of swirling green light and rock dipping upward, heaven bound. The light jaggedly glowed from it, illuminating the dark clouds around it eerily. Carrie felt a cold shudder go down her spine as she stared into the green void, a unique kind of terror filling her. Cassandra took a few steps forward, into the chantry's front yard, before she spoke:

“We call it ‘The Breach’. It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift; just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave, or so we think.” She turned on her heel to look at Carrie, her mouth set into a slight frown. Her eyes burned into Carrie’s, their light brown color glittering in the light.

“An explosion can cause… _that_?” She felt a _need_ to disbelieve this, a need to not believe a word this woman said. That would make this all too real; this would mean _she should be dead with the rest of them_. Not alive, not standing here, a prisoner, a _survivor_. More than just terror was filling her at this point. Cassandra’s voice brought her back from her thoughts.

“This one did. Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.” Suddenly, the green void flared brightly, and pain shot through Carrie’s marked hand. She gasped out loudly as her hand flexed open towards the tear in the sky, light pouring from it as well. It was blindly painful, and when her eyes finally opened again, she was on her knees in the snow, her hand curled into a tight fist with green pulsing from it. Cassandra kneeled in front of her, her eyes earnest. “Each time it expands, your mark spreads… and it _is_ killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, to closing all of these rifts, including that one, but there isn’t much time, for the world or for you at this rate.” The pain in her hand and the fear Carrie felt send adrenaline rushing through her. While, on principle, she’d normally be plotting ways to get out, she knew this woman was right. In the course of less than half an hour, the damned mark had already become bigger, and if there were demons falling from the sky…

“I understand, Cassandra. I… I will help you.” Her eyes widened in disbelief for a moment before her face seemed to lighten. She was quickly back on her feet, then pulling Carrie up, though her grip was not as aggressive as it had been before. Cassandra kept her grip on her back, half pushing her along. As they walked through the town, locally and militia dressed folk looked at them… _watched_ them. Their eyes showed a deep hatred to the hooded woman, some of them yelling profanities or slurs at her, others spitting at her, on her, or at her feet; yet her head was high as they walked, while also completely concealed.

“They have decided your guilt. They _need_ it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, Head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers.” As she talked, they came closer to a worn road leading to a tall gate door, and further out into the snowy and mountainous landscape surrounding the small village. “It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together… And now… Now they are all _dead._ ”

Her voice was filled with grief, and for a moment it looked as though she were crying. Upon a second look, the tears were gone and in their place was a look of defiance… and sadness. “We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the Breach is sealed.” They exited the gate door and were now out on a cobble bridge. Cassandra took a knife from her belt as she turned, then gripped Carrie’s arm. “There will be a trial. I can promise no more.” She cut the leather tie holding her wrists. “Come. It is not far.” Carrie rubbed her sore wrists, wincing.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach first. We are… going to meet up with a few ‘friends’.” Carrie lifted a brow at the rather venomous tone on the word but didn’t voice her curiosity. Sighing, she surveyed the bridge as she fell in line behind Cassandra. She noticed the eye marking on her breastplate also appeared on her shield, and the sheath of her sword. She saw the other scouts and soldiers also bore this symbol, as did the gate doors they used to exit the bridge. While she was in her thoughts she had apparently missed Cassandra calling for them to be opened, or the guards already knew to open them. She was gestured forward by her captor, down another worn path to another set of gates. There were spiked barricades pointed to this next set, and as they went further, soldiers came running past them yelling about being damned and the heavens falling. As they were closing the distance, another shot of pain went through her hand, and she found herself on her knees, clutching her hand, and Cassandra’s own hand on her shoulder.

“The pulses are coming faster now... The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face.” She helped her back up, to which Carrie nodded in thanks. They continued down the path, moving at a jog now.

“How did _I_ survive the blast?” Cassandra’s breath seemed to catch for a moment before she answered:

“They say you… stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They said a woman was in the rift behind you… no one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I-I suppose you’ll see soon enough.” They were crossing another cobble bridge when a glowing green rock came shooting down, hitting it dead center. The bridge collapsed under them and everyone else there, sending them spiraling to the ground underneath. Carrie let out a garbled yell as she tumbled, crying out as she hit her ribs and right leg against fallen rubble. The sound of the collapse had mostly drowned Cassandra’s roar of surprise, though it hadn’t silenced the screams and cracks as people were buried under the broken cobble.

Carrie had blacked out for a moment, maybe two, before she was awoken by Cassandra shaking her shoulder roughly. Her ears were ringing again, and an awful pounding had begun in the back of her head. She could barely see, her vision was so blurry…

“Carrie! Carrie, can you hear me? Damned it all, are you alright?” Carrie gripped her arm unsteadily as her eyesight cleared, trying to get a hold on the world…

When she saw a… _thing_ coming towards them. It looked like it was cloaked in red and black robes, with long, bony arms and claws reaching from under its sleeves. Carrie gestured towards it, half yelling Cassandra’s name. Another throb of pain went through her skull, making her eyes water. She heard Cassandra scramble up and grab her dropped weapon and shield, each making a metallic _shhhhik_ as she picked them up. Her blurry blob went running to fight the fiend, but in front of Carrie came a bubbling green-black mass… _from which another creature emerged_. Gasping, she hauled herself to her feet, trying to force the world to stop tilting as the thing glided towards her, screeching loudly. Roaring, she felt a whirling ball of flames come to her hands, both unbearably hot and icily cold. She blasted the creature with it, setting it ablaze. It swiveled around, beating at itself in hopes of putting out the flames.

Scrambling, Carrie searched for anything to use to defend herself… and found a bow, similar to the ones some of the soldiers on the bridge had been tending to… _before they died._ Shaking that thought away, she grabbed it and the matching quiver. Strapping the quiver to her back, she took out an arrow and enchanted it with flames right before she sent it flying through the creature’s skull. It let out a garbled noise, before disintegrating into a mass of black sludge. She saw and heard the same happen with the other as Cassandra pierced it through the torso with her sword. She pulled it out and shook it off before turning around, although stopping dead in her tracks when she saw Carrie had both killed another and was armed.

“It’s over. Could have been-”

“Drop. Your. Weapon. _Now._ ” Cassandra’s blade was now pointed at the mage archer, distrust written on her face. Carrie felt both a prickle of unease and defiance roll over her neck but thought better of disobeying. She was able to feel something was… off about this woman, as though something powerful was threaded through her veins.

“Fine. Alright. I’ll disarm.” Carrie had nearly placed her bow on the ground when Cassandra spoke up.

“Wait.” She hesitated for a moment, then sheathed her sword. “You have magic, and though you don’t need that bow… You should have it. To protect yourself. I… should remember you agreed to come. Willingly. Oddly enough, I’ve not met many mages who were able to string a bow, but it seems you’re very… accurate.” She gestured up a mountain side nearby, murmuring that we need to go that way. She also offered some potions and salves, and after rustling up a bag from near the bridge, deposited them into it and strung it over Carrie’s shoulder. The two headed onward, towards wherever Cassandra thought they needed to be.

Along the way, they found bodies and more creatures. Some were like spirits, and couldn’t be approached without them drifting off quickly, looking for high ground over whoever came near. After some time, they came to a large set of steps, inlaid into the mountain side, leading steeply up to a collapsed bridge and an area of broken fort wall. A glowing, crystalline spiked sphere hovered in the air, spinning slowly over a large fight taking place. The demon-shrouded creatures were in battle against a few scouts, a thin elven man, and a crossbow-wielding dwarf.

Cassandra launched into battle with a war cry, and Carrie helped pick the ones off of the less-capable scouts and one that had managed to slip behind the angry warrior woman. As the last creature became a puddle, the elven man grabbed Carrie’s marked wrist and held it up to the green sphere.

“Quick! Before more come through!” Beams of bright green light connected the sphere and her hand, pulsating, before the sphere burst into light and then disintegrated similarly to the demons. Her hand ached a bit, but not nearly as much as it had before.

“What exactly did you just do to me?” The elven man chuckled softly, gesturing to her.

“ _I_ did nothing. The credit is yours.” His head was cocked to the side, and he had an overall friendly demeanor. Carrie frowned for a moment before answering.

“So, I _can_ help. Or, well, this mark can.” The elf was silent for a second, but quickly explained.

“Whatever magicks were used to open the Breach also have a connection the mark on your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to seal, or rather, close rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake-and it seems I was correct.”

“Meaning it could also close the Breach itself…” Cassandra had a nervous but hopeful look on her face.

“Possibly… It seems you hold the key to our salvation.” His voice had an oddly cold note to it, though his face portrayed otherwise. Carrie felt an uneasy shiver go down her back.

“Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” The dwarf turned around, beginning to talk about himself using many hand motions. “Varric Tethras: Rogue, Story… teller…” The dwarf’s voice trailed off as his golden-brown eyes slowly widened in disbelief. “Magpie? Is that you? I mean you look different, but…”

“Varric, you haven’t changed a bit! Still seem to think showing off chest hair is _fashionable._ ” She ran forward and hugged him, received a loud laugh and a tight hug back. “I’ve missed you. There’s such a void in my heart without you.” He snorted as they parted, shaking his head.

“ _You two know each other?_ ” Cassandra’s face was slowly turning red and she had a rather murderous look leveled at Varric. He gave her a rather sheepish smile in return. “ _You said you had never met her before, VARRIC!_ ” She was slowly walking over to him, her face growing redder by the second. He carefully backed away, hands in front of him.

“C’mon, Seeker. She wears a hood, how was _I_ supposed to know who she was?” Before Cassandra could say anything else, the elven man spoke up.

“While I’d _hate_ to interrupt you two, we should get going. You know, before the glowing green hole in the sky gets even bigger.” He turned towards Carrie, nodding to her. “By the way, I am Solas. I am pleased to see you still live.” Varric turned towards the two as Cassandra made a disgusted noise.

“He means ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept’.” Carrie nodded towards Solas, smiling.

“Well, thank you. It’s, uh, well it’s nice to still be up and kicking, as they say.” He snorted softly, a slight grin coming to his pale features. Taking a closer look at him, she wanted to ask how someone could have a head _that_ bald, but decided against it. “Should we get going?” Cassandra casted one last glare at Varric before, nodding.

“We should hurry to the forwarding camp. Come, let’s go.” She set off in front of them, Solas behind her, and the last two trailing a bit.

“Yeaaaaah. C’mon, birdie, we can catch up later. I’ve bet you’ve got loads of stories to tell me and _boy,_ do I have some for you…”

They set off together into the cold landscape. While they were a rather ragtag group, they moved rather quickly. They searched homes for any survivors, though there seemed to be none to be found. As they fought their way through demons and houses, there was a comfortable silence. Well, for a bit anyway.

“So… You and Varric know each other?” Cassandra’s voice was light, but tense. Carrie laughed softly, her lips curling into a warm smile under her hood.

“Yeah, you could say that. I traveled around a lot for a long time. I met up with Hawke quite a bit. One thing led to another, and I met most of her friends, including Varric. I traveled off and on with her for quite some time.” Cassandra mumbled to herself as they continued on. After realizing there were truly no people waiting for rescue, they turned their attentions fully to getting to the forward camp. As they started up a hill path, Cassandra spoke up again.

“I… I hope Leliana made it through all of this.” Her voice held concern, and upon looking at her, it was written in her features as well.

“She’s resourceful, Seeker. I bet she’s waiting to tell us how damn slow we are.” Varric nudged her a bit, and just the slightest, reassured smile came to her lips, though it quickly disappeared and her faced flushed a slight bit.

“We will see for ourselves at the forward camp. We are almost there.” While his voice was cheery, Carrie felt it was surely drained as new sights greeted them the closer they came. Carriages lay burning and crumbled, the bodies of their passengers ejected nearby. It was bloody, gory, and she honestly felt she may vomit at any moment. She had seen carnage before, but it always made her sick. Always.

As they reached the top of the path, her mark flared painfully. As they came over the hill top, they saw why: the guards at the outer doors of the forward camp were being swarmed by demons falling out of a rift. “Another rift!” Cassandra cried as she raced to pick a demon off of a fallen guard. Solas let out a blast of frost, freezing one of the cretins. Varric quickly shattered it with a bolt.

“Seal it! _Quickly!_ ” Carrie stealthed herself, enfolding magic around her, and raced to the sphere. She raised her hand, and again, beams of light attached to her hand and the sphere. With a flick of her wrist, it exploded, and left her hand aching once more. As it disappeared, Cassandra called for the gates to be opened. Clutching her hand, she followed the warrior into the camp, past guards who glared uneasily at her. Not too far into camp was Leliana. She seemed to be arguing with a chancellor.

“You, Cassandra, The Most Holy- Haven’t you all done enough already?” He turned to look at us, his nose scrunched unpleasantly. “Ah, here they come.”

“Ah, you’ve made it. Chancellor Roderick, this is-”

“I know who _she_ is. As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution!” Cassandra’s face quickly contorted into a sort of snarl.

“‘Order me’?! _You_ are a glorified clerk! A bureaucrat!” She scoffed and looked him up and down with an unimpressed look.

“And _you_ are a thug, but a thug who _supposedly_ serves the Chantry!” They two glared at each other, their eyes shooting daggers in either direction.

“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as _you well know_.” He snorted, shaking his head in disdain.

“Justinia _is dead!_ We must elect a replacement and obey _Her_ orders on the matter.” He crossed his arms with an ugly, smug look on his face.

“Sooo… None of you are actually in charge here.” The chancellor’s face flamed angrily as he shoved a finger in her direction.

“ _You killed everyone in charge here_!” He looked to Cassandra, his lip curled. “Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.” She shook her head vehemently, crossing her arms over her breastplate.

“We can stop this before it is too late.” He scoffed disbelievingly.

“ _How?_ You won’t survive long enough to reach the Temple, even with all your soldiers.”

“We _must_ get to the Temple. It’s the quickest route.”

Leliana stepped in, her lips pressed into a tight line. “But not the safest. Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.” Cassandra frowned, her eyes turning towards the mountains as Leliana pointed to them.

“We lost contact with an _entire_ squad on that path. It is too risky.”

The chancellor interrupted them, his lips pursed and his face paler than it had been. “Listen to me. Abandon this now before more lives are lost!” Right as he spoke, the Breach flared once more, causing the mark to envelop Carrie’s hand in a green glow. Cassandra looked thoughtful for a moment, before asking:

“How do _you_ think we should proceed?” Carrie’s jaw dropped for a second, before she snapped it back up, biting her tongue accidentally. Not wanting to look stupid, she did carefully think about her choices. While she didn’t want to lose the scouts… It was likely they were already gone, but the soldiers were alive, and she _could definitely keep them safe_.

“Well, since you’re asking… I think we should charge with the soldiers. We can still keep them alive, and not to be morbid, but the scouts may already be dead.” Cassandra nodded, then turned to Leliana.

“Leliana, bring everyone left in the valley. _Everyone._ ” Leliana dashed out and away, through the gates behind them. As the group walked towards where the soldiers were, the chancellor left them with a parting message.

“On your head be it, _Seeker_.” Cassandra seemed to have ignored him, or was putting up a good show of it.

The way to the soldiers was not an easy one. It was a long trek up a sharply inclined mountainside, and by the time they reached the top where the camp was, Carrie’s lungs, legs, and sides burned and ached. While she was a fit person, that was just _too much._ There were soldiers and bits of slime from demons everywhere, and as they made their way through, more and more wounded came into sight. She felt so nauseous and afraid she wished she could run and hide. Get away from all of this. She had to fight that feeling all the way up to the area that exited to the Temple. _Another_ rift awaited them, spewing demons left and right. The soldiers were knee deep in the monsters, including someone with finer armor than the rest; likely their commander. Cassandra rushed to him, helping him pair off with a set of long-legged, tall, horned demons. Solas and Varric picked the shrouded demons off of the soldiers, giving them more room to fight. Carrie, again, cloaked herself and ran forward, her only intentions being the rift.

However, on her way there, she was suddenly flung in the air by a demon-it had come up from under her, then knocked her off her feet. Pain throbbing through her body, she scrambled up and spun towards it. She felt her magic soar through her veins, singing of power and chaos. She struck the demon with ice, freezing it, then smashed a hardened fist into it. The thing shattered into darkly colored bits, and she continued quickly to her original destination. Her hand thrummed as she closed this one, the same as the last, and that same ache set into her bones. She heard footsteps behind her, then came to a stop next to her. Solas nodded to her, smiling slightly.“Sealed, as before. You’re becoming quite proficient in this.”

Varric came up behind the two, gesturing with his shoulder to the Breach as he reloaded Bianca. “Let’s hope it works on the big one.” As she was about to answer, she heard a startlingly familiar voice. A voice that, by all accounts, _shouldn’t be here._

“Lady Cassandra, you managed to close the rift? Well done.” She slowly turned her head to the man the voice belonged to and saw… Cullen. His skin was far paler than the last she had seen of him, and the bags under his amber eyes had somehow become even worse. She kept her face down, using her hood to obscure it. He didn’t need to know she was here. He didn’t need to know she was alive _at all._ She was brought back by Cassandra’s voice. She let out a heavy sigh, leaning on a support post nearby.

“Do not congratulate me, Commander. This is the prisoner’s doing.” Cassandra waved her arm towards Carrie, who only slightly turned to the _Commander_ , as they called him.

“Is it? I hope they’re right about you. We’ve lost a lot of people getting you here.” His eyes were piercing, searching. Trying to find anything out about her that they could. She couldn’t allow that, though. She wouldn’t. _She won’t._

“I-I will do my best, ser. It’s all I or anyone else can do, in this situation.” He sighed, scrunching his nose slightly.

“I suppose we’ll see soon enough. The way to the Temple should be clear, Seeker. Leliana will try to meet you there.” Cassandra nodded, the motioned for us to follow her.

“Then we must move quickly! Give us time, Commander.” Hers eyes implored him, and he nodded, his lips pursing slightly.

“Maker watch over you-for all our sakes.” He looked between the four of them, then followed his soldiers back to the camp, helping an injured man stay on his feet. Together, they jumped down the ledge from the camp to the body-littered ground below, no doubt victims of the explosion. They ran to the Temple entrance, flames still dancing upon it even now. They descended, rubble and badly burned bodies everywhere. There were small red, glowing crystals she remembered all too well on the floors, and as they came into the now dilapidated main area, they were greeted by a horrid sight. Red lyrium crystals of all sizes were _everywhere,_ their light ominously lighting the darker corners of the room. Yet, the worst part was an enormous rift in the dead center, almost serenely glowing.

Carrie heard footsteps, many of them, behind her, and then Leliana and Cassandra speaking, though she doesn’t remember what they said, nor much after that. Just Divine Justinia, screaming for her to run, screaming for mercy as a cruel voice calls out for his guards to kill her. Though it’s only a flashback she remembers, from the rift, and then the demon. The twisted creature that emerged, its gargantuan size dwarfing everything nearby. Then… Darkness. A twisting darkness that wove itself through her, lapping at her mind, intoxicating her body. And that is all.

 


	2. Chapter 1: The Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carrie's dreams tend to either be A) some horrific event that will happen soon enough or B) past memories she can't always hide from. This time, she get's some of B dreams, and remembers again why she doesn't get attached. She wakes, finding herself in Haven, and later, with a choice on her hands. Even more, what reasons will she make this choice about? Herself, survival, or the greater good?

_Once again, she was lost to the darkness. She knew she was sleeping, dreaming; she was always able to tell, even when she was a child. Her dreams swirled and shivered violently in her mind, ripping her past from the depths she had buried it and into the forefront. Her mind spun, trying to follow the path her memories set._

_The first thing she recognized was the times she was in so many different mage towers, always being moved to somewhere new within a few months. Until she ended up at the Fereldan circle. It was one of the lesser known circles, and one of the least strict ones. She remembered Irving welcoming her there, promising safety, as had every first enchanter she had met thus far. Knight-Commander Greagoir had also been there, not as friendly but still kind in a way. He warned against revealing her true reasoning for being there, even to other templars, and to not cause trouble; just because she was special did not mean she was exempt from punishments. And with that, they had turned her loose in the Tower, stating she was an apprentice that had been living in a small town that lacked a form of the Chantry. She sees, through her own eyes and those around her, how different she became from getting there till some time later. She hadn’t trusted that this safety would last, but it did longer than any other place she had ever been. She had friends, both templar and mage for the first time, as well as some feeling of belonging. Sure, she would rather be free, but with how that went last time… She wanted this peace to last._

_A few months after she had come there, rumors had started filtering through the templar barracks and the mage dorms about her… and a certain templar friend of hers. It came to a head sometime after her Harrowing, no doubt because someone had seen her flirt with him, and though she had meant her flirts, she didn’t honestly think anything would come of it. In truth, it had been rather cute when Cullen ran off and away from her. Disappointing for sure, but cute._

_He had found her later, still rather red in the face, asking about their usual evening chess match. She remembers his eyes rarely meeting hers, but there was a near constant little smile on his lips. The memory faded away into her nightmare of the Tower, of demons pouring out of someplace there, of her fellow mages being turned into abominations, as well as the templars. She remembers waking in a cold sweat, then running to Irving and waking him before dawn’s first light, telling him of it. His face pales, his dark eyes wide with disbelief. He tells her to wait there, he must go and find the Knight-Commander, they all must speak of this. But she doesn’t wait there, she knows they’ll send her away ‘just to be safe’... so she runs. She runs down a full flight of stairs, looking, searching, and then it comes to her: he's posted at one of the doors to the outside of the tower. Her breath heaving, she forces herself forward, needing to speak with him. She may never get another chance._

_He's preparing to leave from his shift, and she waits, though she knows she has little time. As he comes towards where she hides, she pops out from behind the wall. She startles him but doesn't give him much time to speak; she ushers him to follow her, telling him there is something they must speak of, to please come. He’s hesitant, knowing he most likely shouldn’t, but she had never acted out before and a part of him doubts that she would hurt him, so he follows her. She leads him to an empty room on the second floor, lighting a candle as she closes the door. Her face is pale, her night clothes clinging to her with sweat._

“ _Carrie? Carrie, are you… are you alright?” His voice is filled with concern, and with a soft_ clink _, he_ _removes his helmet. Her gray-blue eyes flicker between his face and the floor many times before finally settling on him. She comes towards him slowly, shaking her head slightly._

“ _I-I’m fine. I had a very bad nightmare, it’s why I’m roaming the halls. I wanted… I wanted to talk to you.” Her hands grip her forearms tightly, causing her already pale skin to become white. “I’m worried something will happen in the next few days, something bad… But I don’t know for sure. I don’t know, I just don’t…” She runs her hands through her hair, its light brown locks curling around her fingers. Cullen comes towards her, gently taking her forearms into his hands and pulled her to look at him. His face is beginning to line with worry, and his forehead crinkles._

“ _Carrie, what in the name of Andraste are you talking about? Do you know something? Something the mages are planning?” She shakes her head, a look of confusion and hopelessness on her frightened face. She takes hold of the sides of his breastplate, her eyes suddenly burning into his._

“ _Promise me something, Cullen. Promise me, that if anything happens, you’ll make it out. You’ll keep yourself safe.” She looks at his in earnest as his lips opened and closed repeatedly, no words leaving him. Then she realizes she was running out of time to get back; unsuspiciously, anyway. She peers up into his face for a long moment, thinking of everything that had happened in the year she'd been there. Much of the memories included him; templars usually don’t make friends with their mages, but Cullen was young. He wasn’t as bitter as the rest of them, and he was still so innocent. She felt a pang at the realization that she would likely leave here, never to see him again, but pushed it down. She didn’t need to cry here; she would have plenty of time to do that later._

_A sudden, rebellious shiver runs down her spine, and without thinking, she takes a stand on his booted feet, pulling herself up, and kisses him. In all honesty, it was her first kiss. She had had daydreams of maybe doing something similar with Cullen, but reality always clouded the way; in truth, there would be no hope for them. But, right now, there was this second, a second to do one thing she wanted before she was sent away once more. The kiss was awkward, but in later years she thought of it as sweet; it only lasted a few moments, and he was too surprised to react. She pulls away from him, stumbling backwards off of his boots and out of his slackened hands. He has a look of astonishment on his face, his eyes nearly the size of dinner plates. She doesn't give him time to say anything, however; after looking at him for a split moment, she bolts out of the room, and weaves a path through the tower he would not be able to follow. As she flees back to the third-floor staircase, she can hear Cullen calling her name, but she does not answer. That would have just been too much to bear that night._

_The memories blurred, threatening to disappear entirely. They finally reshaped into the forms of Carrie, who was now dressed in clothes like those of a merchant; a group of three high-ranking templars, dressed as common mercenaries; and finally, Irving and Greagoir. The First Enchanter and Knight-Commander were giving orders to the templars, telling them to take her to Lothering for the time being, and to await further orders. Carrie climbs into a boat with the group, and they set off across Lake Calenhad, still under the cover of night._

_The memories again blurred, then dissolved into darkness once more. A few moments passed before light shone through her eyelids, and the sound of scuttling feet wake her._

Carrie felt soft materials over and under her body. Her eyes slowly opened, taking in the room around her. The walls were made of wood, pelts scattered over them, along with cloth decorations. The place had a cozy feel to it, like a small house for a younger family. Sitting up, she realized the scuttling noise was a young elven girl, who upon realizing Carrie was awake, dropped the crate in her hands with a gasp, her fair features showing worry and fear.

“I-I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!” Her words were full of panic, as though she had been caught with her hand in the sugar.

“It’s okay! Please, don’t worry yourself-” Carrie’s words came to a halt as the girl fell to her hands and knees, in a sort of kneeling bow.

“I beg your forgiveness and blessing. I-I am but a humble servant. You are back in Haven, my lady. They say-” As the girl had been talking, Carrie had gotten out of the bed and quietly made her way over to her. She kneeled down and smiled kindly.

“You do not have to bow to me. Please, stand up. We are both people, yes?” The girl’s face was shocked, but she slowly stood with Carrie. Her face was flushed a deep red, and it clashed rather awkwardly with her auburn hair. “Now then, what were you saying?”

“U-Um, well, the-the soldiers say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, j-just like that mark on your hand.” The mark flickered green for a moment, then returned to normal. “I-It’s all anyone has talked about for three days!”

“So… now I get my trial, I suppose…” At least, they’ll try to put her on trial. Unfortunately for most of them, they don’t know just how good she is at getting loose... Nor her connections to the Divine.

“I-I don’t know anything about that. I-I’m certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve wakened. She said, ‘At once’.” The girl was backing towards the door nervously, clearly wanting to report in.

“And where is Cassandra?”

“I-In the chantry, with the lord chancellor. ‘At once’, she said!” With that, the girl dashed out of the small cottage, careful to close the door quietly. While Carrie did want to further question the girl, she knew better than to try to keep a servant when they were on a timer; it could get ugly very quickly. So, she instead investigated the cottage. She soon realized she was in an outfit much like night clothes. She searched for her armors, or any really, and found a smaller chest with light armor in it. It included a silky cloak, a darkly colored tunic and breeches, and knee-high black leather boots. Once the garb was on, she noticed a note in the bottom of the chest. On it was just a name: **Leliana**. It was beautifully written, and on expensive parchment. Chuckling, Carrie shook her head and headed out after the girl.

What she didn’t expect to see was two rows of townsmen standing, almost as though they were waiting on her. As she walked through the path between the two rows, she heard whispering from them: about her being the Herald of Andraste, how Andraste herself helped her from the Fade, and questioning of her imprisonment. Self-consciously, Carrie pulled her hood further over her head, though no one could have seen her features beforehand anyway. She jogged away, trying to appear as though she had somewhere to be getting to, and headed towards the chantry. The thick snow crunched pleasantly under her feet. She hadn’t been in Fereldan in many years, truth be told; she remembered wanting to come back, just to attend the Conclave…

She shook those thoughts from her head. She’s relived enough bad memories for one day and she really didn’t want to turn into a sobbing mess in front of someone like Cassandra. She hurried up the slightly inclined area, taking any steps she came across two at a time. She passed through a throng of chantry clergymen and women, and into the high, wooden doors. It looked unremarkable, like every other chantry she had ever been in, except there were soldiers here instead of templars. Even though she personally had nothing to fear from the Chantry as a whole, it still made her uneasy to pass through one, even now, with all mages being free. She asked one of the lay sisters where Cassandra was, and she was directed to a door all the way at the end of the main hall. As she drew closer, she heard an argument going on behind the door.

“You’ve gone completely mad! She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine!”

“I do not believe she is guilty, Chancello-”

“The mage _failed_ , Seeker. Ahaha, the Breach is _still in the sky_. For all _you_ know, she intended for it to be this way.”

“I do _not_ believe that!”

“That is not for you to decide. Your duty is to serve the Chantry.”

“My _duty_ is to uphold the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor, as is _yours_.” Not wanting them to become too upset at each other, Carrie pushed open the door with a loud _clank_. As she walked in, the chancellor from before sneered at her.

“Chain her! I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.” Cassandra stood up straight from the position she was in over the central table, shaking her head.

“Disregard that… and leave us.” The two door guards saluted them, and the walked out, closing the door behind themselves. The chancellor snorted, looking disgusted.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.”

“The Breach is stable, but it is _still_ a threat. I refuse to ignore it.” Cassandra had her face very close to his, a dark scowl on her face. Carrie felt as though the tension in the room would take very little to snap, so she chose her words wisely.

“So… I’m still a suspect? Even after what we just did?” The chancellor turned towards her, another sneer on his face.

“You absolutely _a-”_

“ _No_ , she is not.”

“But _someone_ is behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others, or… have allies who yet live.” Leliana spoke as she came quietly from around the table’s side, her hips swaying ever so slightly. She had a rather malevolent glare leveled at the chancellor, who now looked miffed.

“ _I_ am a suspect?!”

“ _You and many others_.” Leliana’s voice had a cold tone to it, and an air of dismissal. The chancellor looked incensed.

“ _But not the prisoner?!_ ”

“I heard the voices at the Temple. The Divine called to her for help.” Cassandra sounded as though all were decided: Carrie was indeed, not guilty. Or, at least, Cassandra thought so as did Leliana.

“So her survival, that thing on her hand, all a _coincidence?_ ” Cassandra shook her head in disagreement.

“ _Providence._ The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.” Carrie felt a cold sweat break out over the back of her neck. If the Maker _had_ sent her to help these people, He had one terrible sense of humor. She shouldn’t even be on the list of ‘People Who May Just Save Us All’. Never once has she been able to prevent the things she sees, and if she sees a dark outcome for this?

She quickly realized they were waiting for her to speak.

“I have stabilized the Breach to the best of my ability, or at least that I know of. What more could you want from me?” Cassandra’s eyes flickered from her to the chancellor, to Leliana, then back to her.

“We _must_ try again.” Cassandra went to another table in the back, and as she moved, Leliana chipped in.

“The Breach remains, and your mark is still the only hope of closing it.” The chancellor went to speak, but before many words could get out, Cassandra slammed a large, metal and leather book down on the table. It looked centuries old and severely yellowed. Pointing to it, she asked:

“Do you know what this _is_ , chancellor? A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to _act._ As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn. We _will_ close the Breach, we _will_ find those responsible, and we _will_ restore order, with or without your approval!” Cassandra walked towards the chancellor as she spoke, easily backing him into his own version of a corner. He looked like a pouting child by the end. His lip formed a snarl, and he left the room, angrily grumbling under his breath. She turned back to the other two women as Leliana began to speak.

“This is the Divine’s directive. ‘Rebuild the Inquisition, of Old, find those who will stand against the Chaos’. We aren’t ready. We have no leader. No numbers and now no Chantry support.” Leliana sounded distressed, and her fingers were almost angry as they traced the book.

“But we have no choice; we must act now, with you at our side.” Carrie looked between the two, startled. She knew of the Divine’s directive; she had snuck peeks into it before, illegally. She knew just how ruthless people could be to follow it. And, every time she had stood with something, it has had mishaps. Mishaps that costed lives… But she was a part of this now. She had no true choice; who’s to say that rip in the sky and the one in her hand would stay stable? For all she knew of this magic, it could suddenly rip her to pieces should she not take care of it.

“I will stand with you. As an old friend… and a new ally… May Andraste and the Maker watch over us, because I feel we have a long, dark path ahead of us.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Thank you for reading! If there's anything that seems off, let me know! I take constructive criticism as well, if you're interested! Hope you stay tuned!


	3. Chapter 2: Catching Up and Some Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carrie, after joining the Inquisition, is now having to deal with the very real reality that she can't keep her identity hidden, which goes against everything she has ever worked for. And, not only that, but she has yet to grieve for the fallen Justinia, and all those who died at the Conclave.

In lieu of Chancellor Roderick's dismissal (more like forced removal), Cassandra and Leliana requested Carrie give them around an hour to gather their thoughts with the other two sort of “advisers” of the Inquisition. Then, they'd come up with some form of a plan to figure out just how to move forward. So, now, Carrie was back outside of Haven's chantry, unsure of what to do with her spare time; normally, she was so constantly on the move, she didn't _have_ spare time. An uneasy sensation of dread and a painful pang of loss were having a war in her chest, and she had to force tears not to come to her eyes; in truth, she had known Justinia quite well. She had been the only one of the Chantry's 'board leaders' that seemed to not hate her or find her repulsive. Justinia had treated her as an equal, both in and out of Leliana and others' presences. Later, she would likely grieve fully over this loss, but for now...

“I've been lookin' for you, birdie. I wanted to check up on you the moment you were awake, but it seems Cassandra conveniently forgot to let me know.” Carrie turned to her left and spotted Varric leaning against the chantry wall, arms crossed. He was watching her with a curious, observatory look on his face; she self-consciously pulled her hood down some more.

“Oh, the moment I woke up I hurried here; a servant told me to head over straight away just as she ran out the door. I doubt she would have had the time...” Carrie spotted Chancellor Roderick some distance away, angrily scribbling on a tacboard. “...what with the Chancellor trying his damnedest to make it out like _I'm_ the one who did all of this.” She let out a soft sigh. Varric pushed himself off the wall, and walked towards her til he was right next to her. 

“Oh, yeah, now that man is a piece of work. Kind of reminds me of my brother when it came time to do taxes.” She snorted softly and he gave a small chuckle. “What's the plan for now?”

“For now, I've got an hour of free time till I'm supposed to meet with all four of the advisers or whatever they're being called.” She gave him a small grin from under her hood, her eyes twinkling with a bit of mischief. “How's about you show me to the tavern so we can discuss what I've missed?”

 

Thirty minutes later, Varric and Carrie had a table all to themselves in Haven's rather tiny tavern. After grabbing some hot food and cool drinks (and some good ribbing towards Carrie for opting  _non-alcoholic_ ), the two were chatting away eagerly. While Varric had been brought in for questioning by the Inquisition, Carrie had been off trying to figure out just how bad the mage-templar fights were becoming. She had intended to see if she could help the Inquisition later on, but it seemed fate had a different idea in mind.

“Yeah, Hawke's letters said as much. She told me you both were traveling together? Or, well, until the Conclave; she had figured an appearance there would have been too risky.” Varric poked a bit at a potato chunk before continuing. “I'm damn glad she didn't come. To think...”

“Don't think like that Varric. It didn't happen and she's fine. We lost enough people; do not go doing 'what-if's. Hawke is alive and well, probably cursing us both for leaving her alone. I imagine having to either go alone or possibly be recognized by Kirkwall survivors is putting a strain on her.” Varric nodded, swallowed hard, and took a bite of his stew. Carrie did the same; she was actually on her second bowl... Turns out she had been hungrier than she thought. “I heard from Isabela not too long ago. She found a rather nice cache of treasure and sent me a few baubles and small artifacts she thought I'd be interested in.”

“What? You expect me to believe that Isabela, pirate queen, booty-snatcher of all seas, was willing to part with some of her goods?” Varric raised both of his eyebrows at her, and as she's about to retort, a courier came in and quickly headed over to their table.

“H-Hello, Herald, Sister Leliana and Lady Cassandra asked that I inform you they're ready to speak and to head back to the chantry as soon as possible.” The rather nervous man gave a small bow and quickly left. Sighing loudly, Carrie quickly finished her remaining stew and bade Varric farewell whilst try to sooth her burnt tongue.

 

As Carrie headed back into the main hall of the chantry, anxious, sickening butterflies rumbled in her belly. Varric had informed her that Commander Cullen and Lady Josephine Montilyet were the last of the quad of advisers. She knew that it was likely high-time for her identity to be revealed, and she wasn't sure she was ready to have  _that_ conversation with him; as far as he knew, she had died of disease many years ago. She felt like she may throw up as she neared the sort of conference room; her palms were sweaty under her thin gloves, and her breath was coming too fast and short. Cassandra was waiting outside of it for her. Noticing Carrie, she nodded to her. “How is your hand? Does it trouble you?” Carrie slowly took her glove off and peered at the faintly green, deep scar on her hand; it stretched from where her forefinger connected to her hand to the beginning of her wrist. It felt odd, but not necessarily painful. She put her glove back on before replying.

“No, but... It wasn't enough to close the Breach. What use is it if it can't do the _one_ thing it should be able to?” She frowned, pressing her lips together tightly. 

“You did everything we asked of you.”

“And it still didn't work...” Cassandra smiled softly at the troubled woman, gently placing her gloved hand on Carrie's arm.

“What's important is that your mark, and the Breach, are now stable. You've given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed- provided the mark has more power... The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by.” There was concern written on her face. Whether it was for Carrie or the Breach or both, Carrie wasn't sure.

“I'm hoping there is an idea brewing on how this can be done. While I _am_ powerful, and so is Solas, I doubt we both could do it alone.” 

“Yes, we- myself and the other advisers- have something. Join us...” She opened the door and waved her in, following after the mage stiff-leggedly walked in. She closed the door after them, then moved to the left side of the table, between Leliana and Cullen. Carrie moved to the side opposite of the door, and it seemed the meeting was ready to begin. She motioned her hand to Cullen. “You've meet Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces.” Carrie's head turned towards him as he smiled warmly at her and nodded his head.

“It was only for a moment on the field. I'm pleased you survived.” She felt a flutter in her chest as she thought of how he'd react if she suddenly pulled down her hood... Cassandra's voice drew her back to reality.

“This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.” The soft brown-skinned woman smiled sweetly; she was quite pretty, and the candle on her tacboard gave her face a warm glow.

“I've heard much. It's a pleasure to meet you at last.” Her voice had a soft, lilting accent to it. Carrie nodded to her politely as Cassandra drew her attention to Leliana.

“And, of course, you know Sister Leliana.” Leliana's green eyes twinkled with a dark humor, and she laughed softly.

“Ah, Cassandra, there is something I must admit. I am very well aware of who our new member is. We've met many times in our travels in Fereldan, Orlais, and Kirkwall; I didn't want to tell you in case you thought I had a bias with her.” Her eyes wandered from Carrie to Cassandra and back as Cassandra seemed to process this information. Her face was slightly red. 

“I-You-...” She lets out a disgruntled noise. “In the name of Andraste, is there anyone else who secretly knows who she is?”

“Oh, I believe there is one more person who does, but it's best they find out after this meeting; they don't seem to realize they know her.” Leliana's voice has a sad edge to it, before she continued. “Anyway, my position here involves a degree of-”

“She is our spymaster.” Cassandra seemed to have gotten back her hold on herself. Leliana snorted.

“Yes, tactfully put, Cassandra.” All four persons turn to look at the rogue-mage, veiled in her cloak. She nodded to all of them in turn.

“It is a pleasure to meet you all. I hope we can work well together to bring some peace back to the world.” Cassandra nodded.

“Well put... I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good.”

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help.” Leliana adds. Cullen let out a derisive grunt.

“And _I_ still disagree. The templars could serve just as well.” 

Cassandra sighed, leaning against the table. “We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark-”

“Might destroy us all. Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so-”

“ _Pure speculation_ ,” Leliana interrupted him, frowning slightly. Cullen shook his head in disagreement, his lips pressed tightly together.

“ _I_ was a templar... I know what they're capable of.” When it seemed Leliana or Cassandra might continue the dispute, Lady Josephine stepped in. 

“Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition-and you, specifically.” She grimaced as she looked to Carrie, seeming to be unsure of how to put her words. Carrie placed both of her hands on the edge of the table, leaning over on them a bit.

“I'm truly not surprised... Without the true head council, the Chantry is basically just a chicken running around without it's head, as much as I hate to put it that way. No doubt they've done this out of fear, both of the Breach and of a mage with any power.” Her voice was coldly matter-of-a-fact, and Josephine seemed hesitant with her answer.

“Yes, I do agree to an extent. With people call you, _a mage_ , the 'Herald of Andraste'... The Chantry is no doubt frightened. It has been declared blasphemy by the remaining clerics, and we are heretics for harboring you.” Cassandra snorted in disgust at Josephine's words.

“Chancellor Roderick's doing, no doubt.” Carrie silently agreed with her; she distinctly remembered him writing something as they left to charge with the soldiers, only so shortly ago...

“It limits our options. Approaching the mages or templars for help is currently out of the question.” Josephine piped up; she seemed very good at redirecting Cassandra's attention.

“Alas, any time something like this happens you always have to do things the hard way it seems. Is there a place we can start until those two options become available to us?” Carrie's eyes moved between the four other persons, hopeful that there was some idea in play here. Leliana spoke first.

“Yes, actually; a chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak with you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than you or I. Her assistance could be invaluable.” Carrie bobbed her head a bit in thought, before answering.

“I'd be glad to speak with her as soon as possible.” Leliana nodded.

“You will find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands, near Redcliffe.”

“Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition's influence while you are there; many deem you Herald or at least in some good respects. You could be a powerful recruiter for more agents and help for the Inquisition.” Cullen chipped in, rubbing his chin with one hand as he looked at her, his eyes seeming to search for something. She tried to ignore his gaze and pay attention to Cassandra.

“...let's think of other options. I won't leave this all to the Herald.” They all nod in agreement, Cullen and Josephine adding a few notes to their tacboards. Cassandra suddenly peered at Carrie, her eyes narrowing slightly. “There is one last thing before we leave and order some scouts to the Hinterlands... While it has been fine up till this moment, we _do_ need to have at least us all know what you look like and who you are, even if the people don't know. We do not need to indirectly foster distrust or anything else like that.” Ice poured into her stomach at the idea of showing them who she was; in truth, her face hadn't changed very much at all from her time in the Fereldan circle, even though she had been four and ten at that time. She felt her hands shake dramatically from her nerves as she took off her gloves, then slowly reached up to pull down her hood. She kept her eyes locked on the table as she spoke.

“I... I'm Carrie Amell. There's... Well, there's a lot you probably need to know about me, though after you learn it all I doubt you'll want to know it. With knowledge comes regret, or so they say. I knew Justinia and the Warden, Hawke, all of them-”

“Carrie? Carrie... no... there's no way...” She slowly turned her gaze up to Cullen's face, and watched as his mouth opened and his eyes widened further as he could fully see her face. The sound of his tacboard hitting the floor greeted her ears.

“There is a way... But you're probably not going to like it.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 3: The Story of Carrie Anne-Mari Amell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen wants the whole truth, and Carrie gives it to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say canon-divergence??? Because yes this story is just me and my nonsense, I'm sorry. Also, figuring out Divine bs is horrid.

Carrie shuffled her feet as she finally gave the room she woke up in earlier that day a good search. As Cassandra had informed her that the small cabin was to be hers (for now, anyway), she wanted to be sure nothing... _Odd_ was lurking therein. The dresser only held some casual clothes of her size and a few more sets of armors, and a crate on the desk had more weapons. As she moved things around where she wanted them, the raven in its cage on the floor cawed loudly, spooking her into dropping the dagger in her hand. Then, someone knocked; a soft, almost hesitant knock. Frowning, she picked the dagger up and set it in the dresser's bottom drawer, then closed it, before heading to the door. A chilly breeze and a dark night greeted her, as did the sight of a rather disheveled Cullen; he was in what seemed to be a clean set of training clothes (a rough-spun light brown tunic and breeches) and his hair was damp and clinging to his face in some places. As he stepped closer to her, the smell of soap, pine, and moss strongly came to her nose. 

“I... I wanted to ask. About earlier.” He wasn't looking at her; rather, he kept his eyes on anything _but_ her. She felt her nerves stir as she remembered what he meant...

“ _I don't want to explain now, as we have much more to discuss... But if you want to know more, we can talk later Cullen, and I'll do my best to tell you everything that I'm able to.”_ She remembered her offer she'd stated before they all had to start figuring out which scouting parties would be sent to the Hinterlands, as well as get more in depth of their future plans with the mages and templars. After they dispersed, she'd somehow gotten drawn into a... _disagreement_ between Lady Josephine and Marquis DuRellion; she still wasn't sure how they'd convinced him to agreeing to let the Inquisition stay in Haven... 

“Oh, um...” She moved out the doorway, gesturing into the small cabin. “Come in, please... I'll try to answer your questions...” His amber gaze flickered up to her face for a second before he entered, wiping his snow-covered boots on the door mat. She quietly closed the door behind him as he began to speak.

“How? How... How are you alive? Or are you necessarily even alive, not just a body possessed by some spirit... or demon?” She turned to him, blue-grey eyes meeting amber ones, in a quiet but tense moment. She thought carefully of how to explain things to him, and then even more carefully of what she could and _couldn't_ tell him. 

“I am alive, truly alive, I promise. It's a very long story, please, have a seat. We'll be here a while.” He looked as though he wanted to argue but took a seat in the chair by the desk as she sat on the bed, across from him. Then, after taking a deep breath to try to calm her nerves, she began:

“It's a very long story, one that reaches well before we ever met in the Fereldan circle tower. You see, I originally come from a small town just outside of Val Royeaux; my mother was an apostate hiding as a bard for one of the noblewomen there, and my father was a chevelier. He hadn't wanted me to grow up around the court nonsense, so we lived in the small town...” She coughed softly, shaking her head. “I always had trouble sleeping, even as a young child. I saw things, horrible things; sometimes murders, or plagues, or... most importantly, twisted monsters that raged upon villages and towns, destroying everything in their wake. They were darkspawn, you see... when I was only eight years old, I had a vision of the fifth Blight well before it truly spilled over into our world. My father, who's grandfather had become a Grey Warden after he had his family, recognized my descriptions of the 'monsters' from the tales he was told as a child and teen. He took me to the local chantry, and then I was off to meet the holy Beatrix III herself, and the other upper clerics. She was a smart woman, and always had been; she'd frequently spoken to the remaining Grey Wardens, and because of that, my dream deeply worried her. She sent for a few of the older Grey Wardens, ones who would likely be able to make some sense of my dreams... In the end, Beatrix wanted to keep me protected in case I had true seer powers, which would require me to be removed from my parents. When they tried to carry me away the first time, I accidentally set the curtains and the templars' hair on fire. That's when we found out I was a mage, and it made it much easier to take me away...” She let out a shaky breath as these memories hit her hard, nearly rendering her to tears. She still had nightmares about when she was taken away, her mother screaming and pleading for them to not, and her father attempting to fight the templars pushing them back. 

“Once the Grey Wardens came and gave their thoughts on my dreams, I was moved from circle to circle, more rapidly as my dreams became more clear; the Wardens advised seeing if the Blight's starting place could be predicted, you see. Once I came to the Fereldan circle, my dreams became utterly clear and understandable. I could even see the expressions and features of the beasts and persons within the dreams then, down to their eye color and the shape of their teeth. It's why I spent an entire year there, rather than only a month or so. It seems so very long ago, when I first met you and Irving, and later, the Warden...” She shook herself, trying to keep on track. “As for what happened... Do you remember the night I found you right as you were getting off duty, and I begged you to come with me so I could speak to you?” She peered at him, her fingers itching for a hood to pull over her face, though she was now in night wear, and it was impossible to do that. He nodded slowly, his hands gripping each other in front of him.

“I remember. You looked sick with how pale you were, and your nightclothes stuck to your skin with sweat...” His lips pressed together into a line, taking most of the color out of them. She continued.

“Right. Earlier that night, I saw another vision in my dreams... I saw demons pouring out of somewhere within a circle tower, mages and templars alike being massacred or worse, forcibly turned into abominations. When I woke from it, I ran to Irving and told him of it... After, he went to get Knight-Commander Greagoir, and during his leave, I went to find you. When I returned, they had decided it wasn't safe there for me. Their plan was to send me to Lothering for some time, just to make sure nothing was going to happen, and to inform Beatrix on what had happened. The cover story was, of course, that I had died from sickness.” She looked up from the floor to him again. His face was utterly surprised; his eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly opened. Keeping her nerve, she went on.

“So, before dawn, I was dressed in merchant clothes (that really didn't fit me; they were made for a fully grown man, not a fourteen year old girl), and a few high-ranking templars were in mercenary armors, and off we went to Lothering. To think, only a few days before this, Duncan had come recruiting... It's why I had been absent for a few days before my quote-on-quote 'death'; to keep him from asking for me to come with him. But, anyway... On our way to Lothering, we were ambushed, by darkspawn no less. I only survived because I was suddenly able to use my magic to make myself stealthier; no smelling or seeing me. I tried to fight at first but... There were just too many. I... I don't want to talk about what happened to the templars... I'm sure you can guess.” She took another few shaky breaths. “A-After they were... dead... and the darkspawn had moved on, I took as much supplies as I could carry with me. I grabbed one of the dead's bow and arrows, and used a map to find my way. I practiced in the morning and evening with the bow, and once I reached the town, I spent days training myself. I wasn't sure where to go, to be honest... I was still there once that foul man Loghain came through, bad mouthing the Wardens, and even still when Irabetha, or well, the _Warden_ came. I hid from her, of course... I wouldn't have been able to answer her then why I was there...” She came to a full stop, chewing her lip. She was lost to her thoughts for some time, before Cullen brought her back to the real world. 

“And then? What happened after that? How did you end up here? How in the blessed name of Andraste are you and Varric Tethras such good friends? Unless you were in Kirkwall, I don't see how you'd know him so well... Or, better yet, why you seem so informal with the Divines and Leliana!” He stood up, his hands running through his hair rapidly and roughly. He seemed lost for words for a moment, and his lower lip quivered as he stared at the door. After some time, he looked back to her, an almost wild panic in his eyes, and asked once more: “ _What happened next?”_ And she told him.

 

She spent a few hours explaining how, once Lothering had fell, she went to Denerim for around half of a year, and spent much of her time trying to grasp her magic and practicing her archery... And stealth skills. She admitted to having been little more than a thief until she met up with the Warden, who had come there some time later. The Warden had convinced her to flee to Kirkwall, and, with one last thieving spree, she had the money to take a boat there that wouldn't take nearly as long as one of the refugee boats. Her fifteenth birthday had passed on that trip, which had lasted a little less than six weeks. Once she landed, she had snuck her way into Kirkwall... And met Bethany Hawke some time after. She told of how she slithered her way into making potions and poisons for the mercenaries there, and later took sneakier jobs that required a lot of stealth. After amassing some wealth, Carrie went back to Fereldan to help the Warden for some time, then returned to Kirkwall. In all, four years passed between her arrival and then return to Kirkwall; after returning, she fully met Hawke and was her help from the shadows. She was at the Conclave to report to Justinia about just how bad the mage-templar fights had become, as well as finally learn about the Inquisition and possibly help with it.

“I watched over you a lot more once I returned. I didn't try to approach you... Iree warned me against it, saying 'after the Fereldan tower, he needs time', and I agreed. I just tried to add a little touch of help when you were abomination hunting, or when you were ganged up on in the alleyways. That's... Really all it is to my tale.” She paused for a moment, thinking. After a few moments, she continued. “I became friends with Leliana due to her being... _involved_ with Iree, and friends with Varric after Hawke introduced me to her mates. As for the Divines... Beatrix tried to become friendlier with me, as she knew I'd never have a normal life; Justinia did the same, though I was closer with Justinia. She had my phylactery destroyed to keep templars or seekers who knew of me from tracking me down... When she took the throne, she asked me only once if I was going to give her trouble; I told her no, and she decided to trust me.” She laughed, snorting. “I mean, Leliana could have just tracked me down anyway.” She glanced at Cullen, who was quietly sitting still, staring at the floor. He didn't speak or move for a time after she fully stopped speaking; just simply kept his eyes on the floor, elbow on knee and chin in hand.

“Why didn't Cassandra recognize you?”

“Justinia... Knew of how her brother died. She was worried her old past grudges would cause her to deeply distrust me.” He looked up to her, his lower lip between his teeth. He slowly stood, but when she went to stand with him, he waved for her to stay seated.

“Thank you... Thank you for telling me this. I need to think about all of it, alright? Maybe... We can talk about it tomorrow? If there's time.” She hadn't noticed before, but now she saw just how dark the bags under his eyes were, and just how thin he was; he looked like a sickly man, a man that had lost quite a bit weight and muscle in a short time.

“Of course, Cullen. I would love to.” He bid her a soft farewell, and saw himself out of her cabin, closing the door behind him with a thud.

 


	5. Chapter 4: Who Am I Working With?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carrie spends a few days catching up with and learning about some of her new companions. Also, Varric is going to be a great dad.

Whilst waiting for Leliana's scouting parties in the Hinterlands to send word back (a week had already passed and some persons were beginning to worry), Carrie had taken the time to acquaint herself with the other members of her 'team' and the advisers. From what she'd gathered, most of the Inquisition's persons in power were gathered by either Leliana or Cassandra, though that wasn't truly surprising. Learning their backgrounds however, was far more interesting than who brought them to the Inquisition, such as how lady Josephine was the Antivan royally appointed ambassador to Orlais for some years, and knew most royalty through one means or another. Her hope was refreshing, as was her pacifist look on the war trying to consume the world. Carrie was sure Josephine would turn out to be the adviser who tried to keep peace amongst the others.  
Meeting up with Leliana had its ups and downs; her anger and hurt seemed aimed at so many things, including Carrie and the Divine's death. Over the last few years, Carrie had saw a change in her friend's demeanor after she began to serve Justinia, but this was something else; a certain bitterness seemed to have settled inside of her. Lina (a nickname only she and Iree used; one she loved to pretend to hate) was ready and willing to see a man, her betraying agent Butler, dead and she was sure had she not been there, Butler would now be dead and rotting somewhere. As it was, Carrie had managed to talk her down and even persuade her to speak of other things, like Iree and Lina's plans to join her. Afterward, she bade her farewell and continued making her way through Haven.  
The next person she came across was Solas. Carrie had meant to go to the Apothecary to see about what variety of magical supplies she had available to her, but upon seeing the elven mage, she felt an odd, unexplained urge to speak with him. Perhaps it was the fact that he was completely barefoot even though there was snow on the stone ground, meaning the stone itself had to be freezing. Or, perhaps it was the fact that he was humming an off-key tune with a nearby bird. Whatever the reasoning, she found her feet walking towards him of their own accord and didn't stop til she stood right behind him. She hadn't noticed before but his clothes seemed hand-sewn, with a steady but maybe not so skilled hand. His staff stood beside him, not needing his touch to keep it up, it's crystal glowing softly.  
“Good day, Carrie. I had wondered when you'd get around to speaking with me. The Inquisition's leaders seemed to have kept you quite... busy.” Solas turned and gave a small smile, his eyes alight with curiosity. “I wondered if they'd even let you come and speak to me as apostates are less than appealing to Chantry worshippers.”  
“We are all apostates, are we not? Not to mention, I haven't been in a circle in a very long time. I am sure my status with them on such matters is the same as yours.” Carrie wrung her hands behind her back, silently worried she may have either insulted him or sounded too callous. Neither seemed the case as Solas nodded, chuckling softly.  
“You're quite right. It's a most odd feeling, walking through a place in Thedas and not having templars immediately swarm you.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Forgive me, I doubt you came to debate with me about the Templar-Mage war. What is it you wanted?”  
Carrie spent a good two hours talking with Solas the first time they really got to speak. While they spoke their thoughts about spirits and the connection of the Fade to the material world, Carrie also perused the Apothecary with Solas in tow. While the man in charge, Adan, was rather on the crabby side, she did manage to get some information from him before she and Solas left the small hut-like building. They sat cross-legged on the stone fence as they continued to speak, often being interrupted by small birds and squirrels coming near to look for food. In the end, she wasn't quite sure what to think of him. He seemed to care more for spirits than people, and more ingrained in the glories of the past rather than trying to use the past to help the future world. It reminded her of the Dalish and their efforts to preserve their heritage, but in a more disturbing way.  
Trying to shake off a small chill trying to settle into her bones, Carrie had headed towards the large, wooden gate doors separating Haven from the training grounds and blacksmith's shop afterwards. As she neared the doors, the sounds of clanging metal grew steadily louder. As the guards opened them for her, the clanging grew so loud it was nearly deafening; she was partly sure some of the recruits and soldiers _had_ to be going deaf. An ache was already beginning to settle into her head. Wincing, Carrie looked around to get a better view of what Haven looked like now. To be honest, the outside hadn't changed really; it was still rather encroached upon by nature. The only difference was that the lake was bordered by tents and a mess area, and the blacksmith's shop was far bigger and offered a small stable for horses. The breeze had an easier time reaching her now without the walls insulating her. A mild shiver ran through her as she crunched across the snow towards Cassandra, who was currently training on her own. With how close they were to the training pairs, she was wondering if the woman would even be able to hear her. “Cassandra!” she called, barely able to hear herself. Cassandra continued to swing her sword, slashing through the dummies. Carrie called again, louder, and this seemed to reach her. As she turned to look, Carrie waved her over and away towards the mess area. Cassandra sheathed her sword and jogged behind her. Carrie could finally hear herself think again as they put distance between themselves and the training grounds.  
“What is it you need? Has something happened?” Cassandra's breathing was labored and seemed to come short in her chest. Sweat dampened her hair and ran down her face, dripping off of her jaw and nose. The most noticeable feature, however, was the concern in her grey-tinged, mouse colored eyes; a small wave of guilt went through Carrie for worrying her.  
“No! No, Maker, no, nothing has happened. I just... I wanted to come and speak to you. Get to know who I'm working with.” A brief look of relief touched her face as she wiped her forehead off on her tunic's sleeve. Sighing, Cassandra pulled her metalwork and leather gloves off, then sat down on one of the benched tables, gesturing for Carrie to sit across from her.  
“What exactly are you wanting to know?” Cassandra asked as Carrie took the seat.  
“Just basic things, Cassandra. Where you grew up, what's being a Seeker like, what do you hope to accomplish with the Inquisition.” Carrie grinned when the other woman snorted. “I know you want to know things about me, as well. Like what's my connection with the Divine, why a few people seem to know me so well. Think of it as a game; you tell me something, I tell you something.”  
Cassandra had been a little less than enthusiastic at the start of their 'game', but she became more sucked in as she learned more about Carrie. Carrie enjoyed speaking to her, and found her gruff and blunt mannerisms interesting. She wasn't used to such an open, straight-to-the-point attitude but it was beginning to grow on her. There was some irony to their partnership as well; the idea that a Seeker of Nevarran royalty (or any royalty, really) was working with a mage who was a 'free' mage before the erasure of circles _and_ someone generally hated by most of the remaining Chantry leaders was laughable, at best. When Carrie had pointed this out, Cassandra had dismissed it immediately, stating that it hadn't mattered to her, and it shouldn't matter if it didn't matter to the Divine.  
Some other parts of their conversation still lingered in Carrie's mind as she helped Harritt, like religion. While Carrie believed there was a Maker, she was sure he had profaned her long ago when he cursed her to watch countless people die on a near daily basis. While at first her Sight had seemed a gift, she had realized in her early teens it was the horrid opposite; she could see destruction but couldn't do anything to stop it. In fact, if she tried to stop it, the horrors she saw usually became worse. Cassandra disagreed with Carrie's thoughts that her Sight was a curse, saying it was a warning system and we need only figure out how to use it properly. She said she believed they were put on the same path for a reason, and maybe part of the reason was so that she could show Carrie that not all of her visions had to meet their ends. Carrie hoped so, for the sake of the world at this point.  
The other part that had stuck with her was Cassandra's brother, Anthony. She had spoken of him with such pain and hurt it had almost made Carrie cry. It was very clear she had cared deeply for him, and no doubt idolized him. She hadn't wanted to speak too much about him, and said that those memories are better left to if they grow to know each other better. Part of Carrie wished she knew her siblings more; she could barely remember her younger brother, Aidan, and when she was free of the Fereldan circle, her exchanging of letters with her mother (through deeply encoded messages) revealed she had an even younger sister, Cordana, who was born four months after Carrie was taken from her parents. She had never risked venturing home, afraid that the Seekers or higher ranked templars would decide to keep her in line, or that even Divine Justinia would do something...  
By the time Carrie had finished her leatherwork for Harritt, the sky had turned a deep purple, with pinkish orange clouds blotting out much of the dying, red sunlight. Her stomach ached hollowly as she realized she hadn't eaten a single thing that day, and while she wanted food, a trip to the tavern would mean people staring at her and the loud murmurs about 'the Herald'... Honestly, she'd rather go hungry than be the center of attention when all she wanted was to be invisible. Her life was quickly becoming not her own, from how Josephine had tried to assign someone to _clothe_ her to the constant murmurs and excited voices following her everywhere. The painful rumbling of her stomach begged for something, but she did her best to ignore it as she made her way to her small home. As she opened the door, the smell of beef stew and fresh bread greeted her nose. Looking around curiously, she saw that two bowls filled with stew and an entire bread loaf awaited her on her table, as well as a full bottle of either wine or mead. A note lay beside the banquet. She hurriedly shut the door and locked it, then shuffled over to the table. The note read:  
“You should be more careful, Magpie. Wouldn't want one of my partners in crime to end up out of business just because she forgot to eat. Try not to drink the whole bottle at once, alright? The last time you did that, you spent the night telling me how much you liked my chest hair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this wasn't a big chapter about new and exciting things, but it will pick up soon!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I know some things may make no sense, but trust me, they will in time. I plan to slowly update this, though more updates will pour out this summer. I do hope you stay tuned for Carrie's story and see all the secrets she weaves and lives in!


End file.
